


Empty Grave's

by WingWeever



Category: Shaman King
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blood and Gore, Death, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-20
Updated: 2014-11-19
Packaged: 2018-02-26 08:11:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2644529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WingWeever/pseuds/WingWeever
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Faust has gone on to open a morgue and hospital, after the loss of Eliza. However, people go missing, and his business truly booms. When Lyserg looses a member of his family, will he too become one of the countless victims of Faust's mad experiments?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Empty Grave's

It was eerily quite that night in the cemetery. The headstones were like an audience before him, awaiting their master puppeteer to speak. A fog crept in slowly, wrapping around his legs in the chilled autumn night. A bright moon seemed the only light cast upon his darkened figure, a silhouette against the great tree behind him. Its branches twisting and turning like thousands of arms desperately attempting to reach for anything to hold, to steal life from. The trunk wound around itself in a dizzying display of dark wood, it’s figure a horrible creature that seemed as if at any moment it could come to life and reap your soul from your heaving chest. From the twisted branches dangled the laughing skulls of many victims, held by the slender strands of their own silken hair, all of them stared wanton at the shadowy figure, their only wish to be held in his hands the way she was. Wrapped around its twisted body were empty chains, awaiting their next sacrifice.  
Faust’s eyes glared longingly at the skull in his hand, which only seemed to torment his twisted soul more and more with every passing moment. His hands grasped it delicately, his long digits fingering the new crack on the back gingerly. His other hand lay on the cold, worn headstone beneath him. His feet dangled in the open grave beneath him, his black shoes tied snuggly to his pale feet to prevent them from falling onto the open coffin below.  
“Now Eliza…how do you keep getting yourself into this mess?”   
His voice was high, yet rasped, and it echoed around the graveyard like death’s own song. His face looked as if he were nothing but a collection of mutilated parts strung together by his own needle, which seemed to tug as he pulled it into a disgusted frown. His white hair shown bright, a ghostly halo around his pale face.   
The skull seemed to smile with a deep grimace, her boney smile unwavering, and eyes so deep in certainty that it was as if you were staring into the darkness of death. A sound suddenly broke through the silence. A small bell rung, continuously, unevenly, until it slowly died down. Faust turned his head in the direction of the bells and grinned. The sun slowly rose over the cemetery, casting a red glow over the soil, as if the sun were spilling its own blood across the earth. He gave the grinning skull a solemn kiss upon its boney cheek, and gently dropped it into the open grave, where it rejoined the rest of the body.  
Faust sighed pleasantly, and turned his body until his feet met the ashen soil on the other side of the headstone. His long legs creaked under him as he stood, as if he had sat unmoving for decades. He stretched, his slender figure moving under his dark suit, and grabbed his long coat and top hat from one of the low twisted branches of the tree that hung over him. CLICK CLICK CLICK. The skulls moved, knocking each other, and the noise echoed through the night. His unholy chimes making the only movement seen for some distance.   
He smiled at the clanks, turning his head at an angle that no human could, and titled it upward, his smile filled with malice.  
“Now now dears, don’t make such a fright. I will bring you a new friend soon.”  
The noise slowly died, as if a single word from their master had quieted the movement of souls.   
He turned himself toward the direction from which the bells rang and walked, his body tall yet slumped, as he creaked and groaned from the constant misuse. His feet seemed to glide over the ground like a specter, the soil unperturbed. When he approached a new gravesite, the soil still settling, his grin could only widen.  
“Well hello there my dear, what could ever be wrong? Is there not enough air for you? Is your bed to small? I could set you free if you’d like…”  
He kneeled next to the gravestone.  
“…For a price.”  
The bell rang again.  
“I want to see that pretty smile of yours…”  
The bell rang long.  
“Oh? You make that promise so easily…Would you promise me that smile for the rest of eternity.”  
This time the bell did not ring, which caused him to give a little chuckle.  
“No? But darling, I thought you loved me.”  
It rang only once, slowly and uncertain.  
“But I need a reason to let you out, you were such a bad girl… you hurt Eliza.”  
The bell did not ring again, and after a few minutes he grabbed a long shovel that lay by the headstone and began the long dig. SHINK…SHINK…SHINK. His shovel moved slowly, yet with great skill. He quickly reached the bottom, and even through the labor not a single bead of sweat appeared on his face.   
CLUNK. His shovel made a narrow grove in the top of the coffin. He grinned wildly, and he cleared the rest of the coffin of dirt, and then slowly opened it.   
“Hello dear.”  
The body was pale, her face skewed in a mask of horror, her hands and dressed covered in blood that poured from the wounds on her fingers. The small red string tied to her pinky that connected her with the small bell on the surface, had broken. Her eyes seemed hollow, not a sparkle of happiness or shred of sorrow in her eyes…only the cold reality. He bent down and touched her fingers, where the blood no longer ran red, but clotted in a black lump from where her nails once were.   
“Tsk Tsk precious, you know how bad your nails are? I hope this is only skin deep, or you may be useless to me.”  
Faust began to examine her, touching her body eagerly, his pale hands ghosting over every portion of her body frozen in time.   
“Well, dear, it looks like you didn’t struggle too much…So it should be easy to pull those yucky muscles out of your arms…”  
The smile that he gave her seemed to be filled with an eerie happiness, and he reached down and lifted her body.  
“Aw…You must have worked up a nasty sweat…your body is already stiff.”   
Faust looked up out of the grave and saw a young boy looking down at him, which only made his smile widen.  
“Why Ezekiel, good to see you.”  
The boy only nodded, the light brown curls of his hair flying into his face, and he brushed it away.  
“What do you need?”  
“Someone is at the shop for you.”  
“Oh?”  
“Yes sir.”  
“I see…Well then,” Faust sighed, “Take her and put her by my bed, I will see to her later…”’  
“Do you want me to cover her?”  
Faust looked up angrily.  
“No fool! The ravens are hungry!”  
Ezekiel jumped and nodded, then reached a calloused hand down and, with great effort, lifted the corpse from the grave. He did his best not to look at her, and kept his face on the ground as he hurried away.  
Faust lifted himself and dust off the dirt, ignoring the stains now set in on his clothing. He turned and headed to the small mausoleum on the outskirts of the grave. As he approached he stared quietly for a moment at the wooden sign haphazardly attached to the building, Museum Ement, and noticed that it began to fade a little, a crack split it down the middle. He let himself through the front door as he heard footsteps run up behind him.  
“Ezekiel!”  
“Yes sir?”  
He turned and looked at the young ward, a deep angered glare set into his face.  
“Where are they?”  
Ezekiel seemed to cower under his masters’ gaze and his voice shook as he whispered,  
“He is in the back sir, I told him to just have a seat in your office. I check before I let him in! I swear!”  
Faust just scoffed and headed into his office. Thunk, Thunk, Thunk. His feet no longer floated over the dusty floor, and his prints were clearly visible as he marched angrily to his office. His hands wrapped around the deep blood curtains that hung between the front store and the morgue in the back. The curtain pulled sideways with a loud swish and he stormed into the back. The tables were lined perfectly against the wall, old and bloodstained, yet surprisingly unfilled for the time of year. He walked past them, his hand enclosed on the old pewter handle and he burst through the doors.   
He stood still as he stared at the small figure that sat before his desk. His hand slipped from the handle and a malicious grin spread across his face, which he quickly hid behind a solemn face.   
“Hello.”  
The boy jumped and looked up at him; his deep green eyes were blotched red with unshed tears. His hair seemed to fall around his face like the leaves of a willow tree; in the morning light that crept into his office under the thick curtains, it glowed in all the colors of the grass in the sun. His skin was the color of the beach sand, a pale tan speckled with light freckles barely visible. His body was shaking slightly, and Faust sat on the chair next to him placing a hand on his shoulder gingerly, unused to the touch of another living human.   
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief, handing it to the young man, who took it thankfully.  
“May I inquire as to whom it was?”  
“M…my sister” He said between sobs.  
“I see. I know a pain very similar to yours. But I am here to help ease your pain. I will take care of her for you Mr.…?”  
“Call me Lyserg.”  
“My name is Faust. I promise to treat your sister well, and we can pick out a beautiful site.”  
Lyserg nodded, and Faust could barely hold in his wicked smile. He was playing right into his hands.   
“How about I have my ward bring you some tea, would you like that?”  
He shook his head and sniffled one final time before wiping his eyes and straightening up.  
“I’m sorry about that, I thought I could handle it but I suppose not. I came here in place of my mother who is taken to her bed with the fever, and my father was already placed in your grounds.”  
Faust stared at him hard…  
“Yes! I know your face seemed familiar. Your father was very wealthy; he donated a great deal to my shop. I’m sorry I did not notice you sooner.”  
“Please don’t do anything for me you wouldn’t do for anyone else. You were treating me well before you remembered my face.”  
Faust laughed, yet it seemed hollow.  
“Do not think it cruel of me, but I was grateful to your father for his donation, you have done nothing to earn the same little friend. You are grieving, and that is why I will treat you the way I do.”  
Lyserg smiled.  
“Thank you.”  
Faust patted his lap and stood, his lanky body towered over the young Lyserg’s.   
“Why don’t we see to your sisters accommodations, hm?”   
“I would like to mention before hand, we do not have as much money as we used to, a great deal of what was left went to my mothers’ doctor.”  
“Don’t fret. I will take care of everything. You can pay what you can muster and the rest can be taken care of.”  
Lyserg smile widen.  
“Thank you.”  
Faust took Lyserg’s shaking hand and led him into the shop.   
“Now, my young friend, I will see to gathering your sister this very afternoon, and we may make preparations then. Now, I will have my ward return you to your Home. Give Mrs. Diethel my deepest regards and…” He paused on their journey to the door to grab an unmarked container off the shelf. Its contents dark and sharp, and if you took the time to stare, you may have thought you saw them move. Faust reached in and pulled a single tiny, black branch out and placed it into Lyserg’s palm.   
“This will help with your mother’s fever. Brew this in some tea with honey, and she should feel much better.”   
“Thank you very much Faust.” Lyserg smiled with true innocent affection, for he could not see the malice hiding behind the smile of such a generous man.  
He was shown the door, and Faust merrily went on to his gruesome prior engagement. He body making its way past the countless headstones, mausoleums, and unfilled graves, slowly coming closer to the grand tree, and what lay just past it’s reach. This mausoleum was much more grand than the others. Its walls made of the blackest obsidian, that shown in the morning sun with such an ominous ferocity that you would think that creatures of death lurked within its masked doors, though you would never know how correct you truly were. Faust walked up the stairs to rest his hand on a large silver inlaid depiction of an angelic skeleton, her wings spanning the whole front wall. His hand, lying between her outreached arms that held a small red garnet in the shape of a heart, pressed down and the image broke in half as the doors parted.   
He wasted no time, for it seemed time held still for the pale figure with the skeleton grin. The door closed with a loud bang, and he made his way down the spiral staircase, only to be greeted by the body of the girl resting upon the deep mahogany coffin in which he called his bed. The ravens that filled this room slowly picking at her, feasting on her skin and eyes. Faust walked to her head, and placed his palms on either side of her face, forcing the raven feasting there to move downward.   
“Now dear, you are lucky that you had such beautiful hair. Otherwise this would have been for nothing.”  
He reached into his pockets and pulled out a small silver scalpel, and began his work. He started at her forehead, and dug in deep, her blood pooling slightly, still warm. He worked with precision, and when he had finished, he gave a gentle tug and her scalp pulled free, which he moved to lay on the table next to his bed.  
“Now Eliza, all I need is that perfect skin…I know just where to get it. Soon my love, you will be with me, forever, just as before”  
He gingerly touched all that lay before him, the hair, the eyes in the jar of the most perfect violet blue, the nails that were long, elegant and unbroken. All these were the most perfect specimens, all for her.   
He turned back to the corpse on his bed, and with a great shove, she fell onto the floor with a thud. The ravens cawed angrily, but quickly returned to their feast. He opened the casket, laid himself in the red silk lined box, and closed his eyes, his mind pondering the task ahead.


End file.
